D-HEX-23675 journal 4: Unit D-MSU-1 & the war-machine from cell 8
by AequitasOnAZipdisk
Summary: [G1] Quintesson scientists Emphisa and Fernicius find themselves wrapped up in a dangerous project to appease their Overseer. This leaves their mech prototype to wander the halls autonomously. Hextaida meets the resident of Cell 8; Galestorm, a mech of quite an interesting origin that's yet to be uncovered. [Chapter 4 online!]
1. Chapter 1

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>D-HEX-23675 series: Journal 5: Unit D-MSU-1 &amp; the war-machine from cell block 8.<br>|/]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]

They had told him to wait in one of the other lab rooms of the Aphos wing. So D-HEX-23675 waited, standing on the spot where Emphisa left him. He counted the minutes, letting it turn into hours. He stood silently. At times a Quintesson would hover in to the room, retrieved what they needed from desks or closets and left. Almost none of them looked at him. Definitely no-one communicated with him.

"Yes, yes, we can- oh" The door opened again and two Quintessons entered. They carried what appeared to be a canister on a tripod, covered with cloth. Both looked at him in confusion, and the first Quintesson addressed the other, "Did Master Emphisa claim this room today?"  
>The second Quint shook its head in doubt, "The roster said of no such thing. The prototype's presence here is probably temporary." A shrill shriek emanated from underneath the cloth and the canister rustled as something moved around.<br>The first Quintesson shrugged, "Never mind, let's put this specimen in the corner for now. We need to go and collect the breeding specimen as well. We will crosscheck then."  
>Both hovered towards a corner of the room and placed the tripod on its feet. Whatever was behind the cloth shrieked again but the scientists paid it no mind.<p>

The first Quintesson halted in front of the stationary D-HEX unit, "Do not touch the cage, prototype. Er, what what this one's number again? They created so many I lost count." He held up a tentacle in warning, "D-HEX-something, D-HEX unit: er, how does Master Emphisa do this?" Another glance at his colleague who remained silent save for a helpless shrug. They weren't meant to interact with Emphisa's prototype, were they?  
>"Order. One follows a command for this unit with the keyword 'Order' to form a binding command from which it cannot break, Master Creator Sir." Hextaida Mandar suddenly filled in automatically. Both Quintessons stared for a moment, exchanging distrustful glances. Was it meant to do that?<br>"Ahem! Quite right. D-HEX unit: Order: Do not touch the cage. Let us go now, esteemed colleague."  
>"Quite right, honorable colleague."<br>Again, the room turned empty.

After a couple of minutes to make sure that they weren't coming back, Hextaida's optics blinked... and focused on the cage he had been told not to touch. There was occasionally a chirp to be heard from it, and Hextaida was a /curious/ mechanism. Emphisa's orders were to wait in this room. The unknown Quintesson told him not to touch the cage.  
>The robot rubbed his nose, dipped his head a bit lower and slowly sauntered towards the object, grabbing a nearby cupboard and rolling it over to his object of interest. He climbed on top of it, now reaching high enough to face the canister segment. He paused for a moment.<br>He couldn't touch the cage.  
>No-one said anything about touching the cloth.<br>Those were different things altogether.

But... if he touched the cage, he would be disobeying a command given to him. He bit his lower lip in concentration, bending a bit to try and sneak a peek inside the cage from a lower angle.  
>No such luck.<br>He'd be risking a corrective surge: If his fingers were to touch metal if only in the slightest, he'd be hurting all over. Master Creator Emphisa would probably find him offline, and be very angry with him.  
>Perhaps he shouldn't do this. He didn't want to be disobedient… he didn't want to be destroyed as is the required treatment against disobedience.<br>As if sensing his doubt whatever that was in the cage chirped and shifted. D-HEX-23675's curiosity rose again, and he bit into his lip even firmer. He raised his hands, gently grasped the rim of the cloth, and rose it up.  
>His optics widened, and he silently worded his awe in a quiet 'wow'.<p>

Inside the cage perched a bird. Its feathers were thick and full, shining a brilliant emerald and turquoise. It had a large beak befitting a bird of prey and shrieked at the transformer looking at it. Its eyes were bright amber. With a throaty hiss it spread its wings as good as possible in its current confinement, and Hextaida felt the shift of air as it flapped the appendages. He tilted his head this way and that to see the bird at different angles. It moved its head likewise, before grating a talon against the cagework in a lash towards those azure optics. Hextaida blinked at such ferociousness and backed off a bit.

"HEXTAIDA! What are you doing?!" Suddenly, Emphisa's voice rung out through the room, and Hextaida startled. He let go of the cloth and tried to back off, halfway tripping over himself and clanging to the ground hard. "I didn't touch the cage! I didn't touch the cage!" He yelped, flat on his back, holding his hands up defensively.  
>The cloth, unbalanced, slid from the birdcage and floated down to the ground. Emphisa looked at the now exposed cage. The Quintesson scientist settled and stated calmly, "Ah, the Hyltari."<br>Hextaida scrambled upright, shifting carefully, "W-What is a Hyltari, Master Creator Emphisa Sir?" He questioned. Perhaps if he asked a question, he could escape punishment.  
>"It is one of Quintessa's native bird species. The form of the beak and the sharp talons tell you that it is a predator; a raptor."<br>Hextaida glanced, taking in the details. He dropped his shoulders a bit lower, "It's quite… interesting to look at, Sir." He admitted, "This one got curious…"  
>Emphisa smiled more, "Ah, yes, you have an inquisitive personality core, and Fernicius programmed you to be explorative. It is no surprise that you approached the specimen. Did they not tell you to stay away?"<br>"No Sir, the other Masters told me not to touch the cage."  
>"…" Emphisa was silent for a moment, before his eyes settled on the cloth. Pure amusement became visible on his features, "I shall have to instruct them to give you better defined orders next time. As will I be ordering you to execute immobility when telling you to wait somewhere in the future."<br>Hextaida blinked for a second, before trying carefully, "This one is not to be punished, Sir?"  
>"You did not touch the cage. I have no doubt that you followed orders as they were given to you; if you disobeyed then your systems would've short-circuited after all." Emphisa dismissed the case altogether, "Anyway, D-HEX-23675, I would like you to meet someone." With that, Emphisa motioned to someone in the hallway whom Hextaida couldn't see.<br>"Unit D-MSU-1, order: enter the room and present yourself."

A mech walked inside as ordered. It looked like a grey, unpainted version of Hextaida Mandar (who was set in the light colors of steel blue and sandy brown) with several differences. A logo and identification number were stamped into its colorless plating on various places and several steel rings were welded onto the body. A pair of yellow optics peered out from underneath the helmet but there were no facial features below them: where Hextaida had cheekbones and a nose and a mouth and a chin, this mech just had a plain facemask with three slits to emit audio. The entire design left no doubt that 'social interaction' was not something that it would be engaging in a lot.

"Hextaida Mandar, this is D-MSU-1 'Lomdai'. It is one of our new service units that will be making sure that Khalanxis tower will remain in perfect condition. Unit Lomdai, order: initiate greeting protocol towards your template unit; unit D-HEX-23675." Emphisa explained before making room to watch the two little robots.

"Affirmative, Master Creator Emphisa Sir." Lomdai answered. It was instantly clear that it did not have an advanced speech system; the voice was completely synthesized. Still, that did not stop the mech from turning to the more advanced mech and bowing neatly. "Greetings, template unit D-HEX-23675, also known as Hextaida Mandar. This one's designation is D-MSU-1, known as Lomdai."  
>"…" Hextaida blinked for a second, observing the bow. Then, he mimicked it, "Greetings, unit Lomdai. What is your function?"<br>"Error: Improper query. This unit cannot parse the sentence, template unit D-HEX-23675."  
>"Eh, Master Creator Emphisa Sir?"<br>The Quintesson gave a gentle smile and explained, "Lomdai is the first of a set of units that work exclusively with command words. You have to precede any questions with the proper sentence identifier; query, question, and so on. Try again."  
>"Yes, Master Creator Emphisa Sir. Eh, unit Lomdai, question; what is your function?"<br>Now, Lomdai nodded understandingly, "Question acknowledged: This one's function set consists of light-duty building maintenance, ventilation shaft clearing, manual labor assistance, and several archiving tasks to which it is suitable, template unit D-HEX-23675."  
>"I… understand, unit Lomdai. Thank you."<br>"Happy to serve, template unit D-HEX-23675." Never had such words been spoken with such a blatant simulation of politeness. It was a bit confusing: Sharkticons and Allicons weren't all that clever but there was a certain aura of liveliness around them; their existence and responses to the world felt right. Lomdai is essentially Hextaida with its personality core deactivated.  
>Hextaida wasn't sure how to react.<p>

Emphisa didn't give him enough time to think on it, "It won't be often that you can interact with these units, Hextaida. Fernicius will merge Lomdai and subsequent units with a mainframe system. This will mean that they will work according to a task distribution system: These mechs will not be able to deviate from their schedules. I considered it important to make you aware of this before you encountered any of them; they must be kept working. You are not to disturb them. Do you understand?"  
>"Yes, Master Creator Emphisa Sir. This one understands." Hextaida answered automatically. He didn't have any other option.<br>The single-faced Quintesson nodded, "Good, then I will now give you free leave to entertain yourself. Fernicius and I will be very busy the coming days to get this new system operational; we will have little time for you but I don't think it's necessary to lock you up until we are done. Your specific access restrictions are in effect as always. Also, stay away from any Quintesson from the Halls of Justice. I will set out your daily tasks but when they are finished you are on 'explorative research time'. Use it effectively."  
>"Affirmative, Master Creator Emphisa Sir."<p>

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>End of chapter 1.<br>|/]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]

Bit of a short lead in, but do stick around for the next chapters. This journal will be quite interesting.  
>Also, NO kill-scenes!<p> 


	2. Chapter 2

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>[Chapter 2: Callcheck received.]<br>|/]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]

[Location: Khalanxis Cargo Hold IIX]  
>"Parsing check on system mainframe, third pass…" Fernicius declared as he typed in a set of commands on a mobile console he had brought down to the cargo hold.<br>Overhead an announcer voice responded from the speaker system; "[Parsing check for D-MSU units commencing.]"  
>The triple-headed Quintesson grinned widely for a second before coughing and wiping the smile off of his face. With a look of sheer professionalism he turned around to see his boss Emphisa tending to the set of five robots standing in a single row.<p>

"[Call-check on D-MSU-01]" The announcer voice boomed overhead. Lomdai, the little mech standing at the front of the line, flashed its optics before its synthesized, monotone voice called out; "Call-check received from Main System. Answering call-check."  
>The sudden reaction visibly startled Emphisa, who promptly shot a withering glare in the direction of his subordinate. Fernicius, face betraying nothing, raised a single eyebrow in questioning reply. He was executing protocol here.<p>

"[Call-check confirmed. Continuing. Call-check on D-MSU-02]" The system continued. Emphisa ignored Fernicius's mischievious streak and continued his work. He polished a shoulder pauldron of the last unit in line and checked the tightness of a bolt on the one before that. Both Quintessons worked silently until eventually their work was finished. Emphisa displayed his absence of work silently, switching his datapad contents to a research document to peruse.  
>Fernicius eventually made a good attempt at waiting quietly before he started hovering around the room in evident boredom.<p>

What the two were waiting for eventually announced itself when an entrance door opened, revealing the Overseer of the facility. The highest-ranked Quintesson hovered inside, calm and enigmatic eyes taking in the room. The expression on his face did not change when the MSU units caught his eye but the way with which he set a decisive course for them told enough: his interest was piqued. Both Emphisa and Fernicius did not say a word, respectfully waiting until their boss addressed them. They watched quietly as the master Quintesson circled Lomdai, taking in its features. He halted at the front, faces switching around so that each one of them had gazed upon the robot. "It has no facial features." The blue and silver face stated evenly.

"That is most correct, Honorable Overseer Sir." Emphisa answered with a silken-laced tone of voice, "An absence of definitive features will allow the unit to exude tranquility and neutrality. These units are meant as part of the facility, representatives of discipline and heralds of productivity. We won't need to look upon features to give command, and visitors aren't meant to address them. If it were to be decided that they should provide steward functions, we can always install the facial plate design of a D-HEX unit."

The Overseer nodded his agreement, "Excellent, it pleases me to hear that proper thought has been given to the integration of the Empire's values within these designs. Now, I hope that these little mechs can uphold their part of the ideal. They best not malfunction since I would really hate to have to order them destroyed. Such a decree would look… very bad… on your resume. Very bad indeed, Emphisa."  
>"I- I understand, Revered Overseer." Emphisa nodded.<br>The Overseer glanced at him briefly before adding casually, "I've seen cases where good Quintessons were, well, simply incapable of /coping/ with the shame they had brought upon the Empire. I would be displeased if I had to write a suicide report, if you understand what I mean."

Emphisa froze for just a moment before he leaned into a gracious bow. "Ah, of course, Oh Honored One. I… can imagine how… destructive… such a realization would be; to have failed the high Council. To have failed you. The thought alone is enough to make my life's energy falter."  
>The Overseer shifted his glance to Fernicius. The subordinate Quintesson was working diligently at the console and showed no indication that he had heard the exchange. "Excellent, let us proceed."<p>

At his console, Fernicius was typing in the final commands and additions to the system. Or at least pretending to be for the sake of feigning ignorance. His eyes were shifty but his breathing was controlled. His posture seemed neutral but his face, concealed from the others, betrayed his stress. He double-checked his additions before activating the full extent of the system and after taking a deep breath, turned around, "Sirs, all systems are operational. We are ready."

Delight showed on the Overseer's face and he exclaimed merrily, "Very good! Alright then. Emphisa, Fernicius, show me these mechs at work."  
>"Per your command, oh Honored One." Emphisa nodded in Fernicius's direction, and his subordinate swiped at the console in turn. The screen flashed, beeped in response. "It's done. The system is active. The D-MSU units will start executing their orders now." Fernicius remarked.<p>

All three Quintessons watched in silent expectation. They waited for a second. The second turned to a minute.  
>The minute doubled. Then tripled.<br>Nothing happened…

And as five minutes of waiting went by, Emphisa realized that nothing was happening still.

[Location: Khalanxis, Hallways]  
>Today was a really good day! Hextaida Mandar had finished his daily tasks and was now wandering around the hallways, observing daily life and searching for something of interest.<br>It didn't take him long to notice that all Empire subordinates walked quickly and focused; they had destinations and were going places. No-one loitered. Hextaida was quick to realize that he would stand out if he loitered so in order to blend in the little mech resorted to walking up and down the long corridors instead of standing still. If he saw something interesting, he would pause in front of one of the many signs and pretend to read it while stealing short glances at his point of interest. If he noticed someone curious, he would follow them at a distance pretending that his non-existent business just so happened to be in the same direction as they were going.

He considered himself quite clever as he first followed a guard on his patrol path. It was a generic-looking Allicon warrior who stood out through the way he walked his beat. He made it super evident that he was walking security by the way he would walk straight into the path of those coming from the opposite direction. His shoulders were scrunched up a bit so he appeared larger, and his tail swayed calmly to and fro with each step. When they came across a security station, the guards there shrunk in a bit, bowing their heads in submission. Mistwind counted them as two Sharkticons and one Allicon. The patrolling guard conversed with them for a moment before walking onwards. Only one of the Sharkticons observed Hextaida Mandar as he bounded past the station in pursuit of the big mech.

He was able to follow the Allicon for quite a long while until the mech eventually disappeared down a corridor for which Hextaida lacked the proper clearance level. His face scrunched into a disappointed pout. Drat, there went his entertainment; the broad reptilian back swayed down the hall and was soon out of view. Hextaida Mandar sauntered on quietly into a direction he was allowed. He read the plaques on the wall instructing obedience and observance as he passed them, and nodded respectfully whenever a Creator hovered past. Then all of the sudden a door swung open and a group of diplomats poured into the hall in front of him. A thick gruff cacophony of voices assaulted his ears while a mass of tailored suits blocked the little mech's vision. The chemical components of high quality cigars and an abundant use of liquid indulgence clogged his olfactory sensors. A Quintesson left the room as the last one and closed the door. He addressed the group with formal decorum and a lot of self-confidence as he began to lead them down the hall. Hextaida sidestepped and bowed his head politely as the group passed by him. His sensors where still working to make head or tails of this new encounter, but almost automatically did he turn and follow. They were a much easier follow than the guard had been; these diplomats wouldn't even notice him if he was walking right between their legs. He could listen and smell and see to all his system's content; the concept of eaves-dropping, and its ethics, was never explained to him.

The group went past the security station again, satisfied chattering never stopping. They were talking about some kind of deal and seemed utterly delighted about it. Hextaida carefully observed the station from the edge of his vision. The same Sharkticon that had briefly watched him follow the Allicon was silently watching the group as it passed. Their optics locked momentarily and Hextaida thought he saw the slightest of frowns flicker across the stern facial features of the security guard. But then they had passed and Hextaida disappeared with the group. He made a mental note to not pass this hallway again.

Yet far too soon for his liking, the group reached the entrance plaza. This meant, again, the end of Hextaida's privileges. Like hitting an invisible wall, he stopped walking. The group of diplomats went on, having never noticed their little stalker.  
>Well, he'd just have to search for someone else to follow.<br>Hextaida turned to continue back into the facility.  
>BAM!<br>The foot that came down in front of him missed him just barely. Hextaida gasped, took a hurried step backwards and looked up in alarm. Staring down on him was the Sharkticon guard from the security station a few hallways back.  
>"Halt! Identify yourself!" A deep baritone voice commanded quickly under the cold glare of lime-green optics. Hextaida obediently lifted his right hand. The Sharkticon scanned him, but didn't bother to offer the little cargo-lifter the same opportunity in return. "You have clearance." The guard stated, but his look betrayed that he wasn't done yet, "But you have no standing orders. Why are you going up and down the hall following strangers?"<br>"I have nothing to do at the moment, Mister Sharkticon Unit sir."  
>He was returned a deep, grouchy huff, "Hard to believe... but go do nothing somewhere else. I don't want to see you walking down this hallway again, understood?"<br>"Yes Sir. Er... can this one help /you/… maybe? Then it would have something to do." He tries.  
>The Sharkticon hisses. "Your function is not security or defense; it is cargo and research. Go exercise your function elsewhere, unit Hextaida Mandar."<br>The little mech from Aphos averts his gaze and nods, "U-Understood, Mister Sharkticon Unit Sir."  
>The security guard straightens, "Remember, unit: Idle hands make the mind wander." he phrases, "Such is not our purpose. Now go, and make yourself useful lest the Creators need to re-evaluate your usefulness."<br>"Yes, Mister Sharkticon Unit Sir. I will go, Sir." With that, Hextaida bows before turning around and hurrying down a random hallway. He glances over his shoulder to see the Sharkticon still staring at him from the plaza. "Eep!" He gasps, and walks a little faster.

"Unit D-HEX-23675, halt!" A rough voice calls out. Hextaida stops even before having seen the owner of the voice, "Aaah!" What was with the 'halt' orders today?  
>He turns, startles before bowing a bit, "Good cycle, Mister Sharkticon Unit Macetail Sir."<br>"Good cycle, little brother unit Hextaida Mandar. Present your standing orders and liberties to this one."  
>"Acknowledged!" Hextaida obediently raises his right hand like he had done to the other Sharkticon. Macetail embraces it and nods, "You have no standing orders and you have the proper permission to be wandering around in this area. Leash to me."<br>"Y-Yes, Sir." A bit surprised, Hextaida promptly finds himself grabbed and hoisted up into the air while the death machine walks off. Walks off with /him/.  
>"We have a problem in one of the docking bays. I was going to ask a Master to investigate the case… but you are clever too, right? Not as clever as a Master… but more clever than us Sharkticons." Macetail asked, glancing towards Hextaida as he continued walking down the hallway.<br>"I-I guess?" Hextaida squirmed a bit, "But Sir, I can never substitute for a Master. You're not implying me to be equally knowledgeable as a Creator, are you? That would be blasphemy!"  
>"I know! I know! This one does not imply anything like that." Macetail hastened to shush the little robot he was carrying, "I just need you to listen, and tell me what is wrong. We… can't find out but we feel."<br>This earned a frown, "You feel?" As far as he knew none of the Sharkticons ever gave an account of feeling anything. That surely was interesting.  
>"Er… yes, little one. We… feel wrongness, but we need evidence. We need ground for accusation." Macetail explained as he entered one of the dockyards where spaceships lay moored. He carried his little tower-brother through the hall with a clear heading. Soon, Hextaida could see where Macetail was taking him; There was an alien standing on walkway B, talking with a small group of Sharkticons. He made wide motions with his arms, clearly to emphasize his point. Considering that Sharkticons aren't very clever, this only served to confuse/ them. Their optics were squinted in thought, and they only nodded slightly as Macetail joined them. One of them, Tormalus, eyed Hextaida curiously for just a bit longer.

"-And I am telling you, there is nothing in my ship's cargo hold that is considered illegal in this star system!" The alien stated. By the sound of his voice, it had clearly been doing so for quite a while.  
>"As stated before, we need your docking papers, mister Ralyarak." Tormalus focused its attention back on their uncooperative conversation partner, shoulders firm and voice patiently persistent.<br>"I come here for business conversation, not to turn over my cargo hold!" The alien bristled, "I refuse to do so!"

A little tinge of static erupted on the shortband frequency as Tormalus opened a comlink, "/Macetail, this plan of yours better work. Unit D-Hex-23675, Order: Detect wrongness./"  
>Hextaida Mandar blinked, gaze shifting between Tormalus, Macetail, the alien, and eventually the other Sharkticons. Detect what? The little mech shifted a bit before replying on the frequency, "This one offers its apologies, Mister Sharkticon Tormalus Sir... but... this one does not know such a command. How does it detect wrongness?/"

The alien, Ralyarak, frowned as the Sharkticons suddenly fell silent. Most kept their optics locked on him with impeccable discipline. Or perhaps they were to lazy to turn their heads. A most peculiar purr of confusion erupted from some of them as the question of the little one threw them clean off track.

"/Macetail./" Tormalus spoke just the one name. Within it was a tone of voice that elicited a tremble within Macetail that only Hextaida could perceive due to his tiny body.  
>It did not bode well.<br>"/Tormalus, we could always invoke protocol 600-TR-B40…./" One of the other Sharkticons stated.  
>"Agreed. The visitor does not have immunity to that protocol./" Tormalus answered and addressed the Alien, "Sir, in accordance with the legislation 600-TR-B40 against possible threats and contraband smuggled around the Sentennen galaxy, we must declare you a candidate for ship inspection. You stated to have traveled through Sentennen on your way to Quintessa and you refuse to hand over your docking papers. Please follow me to a customs office where the inspection will be handled further."  
>"W-What?!"<p>

The alien stammered incoherently for just a second, before hissing angrily, "This has /never/ been a problem before. I've been coming here for eons, without any such inquisition. Why now?!"  
>Tormalus shook his head, "Routine inspection, sir. You were informed of this at the start of our communication."<br>"…!" The alien's eyes widened, fury alighting on its face. Hextaida frowned; why was it curious that the alien was making such a fuss? It was up for inspection. Lots of beings here were up for inspection now and then.  
>"This just because you're not getting my docking papers? That is NO ground to arrest me!"<br>"We are not arresting you, sir. We are simply enforcing anti-threat protocols for random checks of spacecrafts docking at our stations."  
>"This is biased! This is not a random check! This is discrimination!"<br>"Sir, please follow us. You are advised that this will go easier and faster if you cooperate." Tormalus insisted. The exchange was getting some attention from other beings in the area, but everyone chose to ignore it.  
>Still, it would've been a better display if they could have had some valid ground for actual arrest. Hopefully the custom check would reveal the source of their 'gut instinct' with this ship. It would still require a public broadcast later on to appease any bystanders in favor of Empire politics. If they found nothing, they would also need to arrange the discrete planting of evidence. It would've been easier if the D-HEX unit had done what they requested from it.<p>

As one, the other Sharkticons assumed an escort formation around the trader. The discussion was over. Macetail set Hextaida down on the ground without a word, and took his place in the line. "/Thank you for your assistance, little brother comrade./"

Hextaida watched them go, still unsure what it was all about.

[Location: Khalanxis Cargo Hold IIX]  
>The sliver of doubt began to grow. Things should be happening. A lot of things!<br>Fernicius tried not to move back to the console to do a status check. He switched faces, showing his most stern one.  
>Emphisa next to him flexed his tentacles.<br>The Overseer coughed.  
>If nothing happened, they were in trouble.<br>If they had to recheck their calculations and programming, they were in trouble.

Suddenly, right on the cusp of that moment where someone is about to break the painful silence, a sound code echoes through the bay. On the screen, they could see the status of D-MSU-03 change from 'Idle' to 'Parsing'. They looked expectantly at the unit in question who now indeed differed from the rest with the stream of data flashing across its optical lenses. Then, the unit's status changed to 'Executing' and the data of the order it had received was nested underneath its status. D-MSU-03 transformed without a word, thrusters lifting it into the air. Then, it began to transfer crates from one side of the hangar to the other.

Fernicius nodded, "Exactly as planned." A surge of relief went through him as he watched the little mech zip to and fro.  
>Next to him, he heard the agreeing hum of Emphisa and a pleased but weird sound of amusement from the Overseer.<br>"Well done you two. This progress pleases me." The Overseer proclaimed, before turning around to the exit door. "Back to business, you two." With that, he made his leave.  
>Fernicius and Emphisa exchanged a glance, at which they simultaneously slipped out of their professional attitude and showed the death-fearing anxiety that they just went through.<p>

[Location: Khalanxis, Aphos wing.]  
>It was only later when he returned to the Aphos wing that Hextaida Mandar found Cindermaw waiting for him in front of the workshop that was Hextaida's 'homeplace of creation'. Arms were crossed tightly across the slightly-deformed chest and stern, yellow optics were trying to burn holes in the little mech.  
>"Er… Guardian Unit Cindermaw Sir?" Hextaida called out as he approached.<p>

The Allicon did not move, optics still locked onto the little robot before him, "You went to one of the docking areas. You assisted in matters of the Halls of Justice. Do not deny this." He barked.

"Y-you know that I helped out, Sir?"  
>Cindermaw snorted, a violent and grating sound that made Hextaida cringe, "You do not offer help to the Justice units. And Macetail especially does not get your help." Having said his piece, Cindermaw turned and entered the lab. He flicked two claw-fingers to motion the mech to follow.<p>

"B-But Guardian Unit Cinder-" Hextaida's plea was cut short by the stare of death that was tossed his way over a broad, spiked shoulder plate. Cindermaw held the gaze for a moment, before coaxing in an eerily pleasant tone of voice, "Go on, unit."  
>Hextaida really, truly, did not understand the increasing sense of danger that he was feeling here. Why was Cindermaw cross with him? What had he done wrong? He stammered, "I-I'm sorry. But-but wasn't this one taught to obey commands of superior units? A-And are the Justice units not superior to this one as well? This one did not approach Sharkticon Unit Macetail, Sir…. Macetail approached this unit!"<p>

Cindermaw paused for a moment, a deep frown setting on his face. "Huh." He said eventually, "That is correct." He looked around the room for a while before stomping over to a computer console. He checked something that was difficult for Hextaida to see but when he turned back around the Allicon favored him with a smug smile.  
>"Hextaida, I hereby forbid you to wander in areas not part of the Aphos wing. That will stop you nicely from meeting mechs you should not interact with."<br>D-HEX-23675 nodded, "Order acknowledged. But Sir, doesn't that override the restrictions of the Creators?"  
>Cindermaw growled, "The Masters gave you certain restrictions within Khalanxis. I'm giving you restrictions outside of Aphos. Don't be dense: it overrides nothing. And when I've told Master Emphisa of your little venture into the docking yard, you'd be lucky if he doesn't order you dismantled and shelved: that D-MSU project is stressful enough as it is. Allow me to share a bit of wisdom with you, little one: The Masters are working on other projects. You've been set aside for now. But being set aside does not mean 'idling about'."<p>

Hextaida widens his optics in surprised shock before looking rather insecure. "Idle hands…"  
>"What are you going on about now?" Cindermaw snarled, "Idle hands… Make some sense when you talk!"<br>"I met a guard in the hallways… he told me I had to make myself useful because idle hands make the mind wander. He said that we're not meant to be idle, and if I didn't have anything to do then the Master would re-evaluate my usefulness…"  
>The warrior raised an eyebrow, "And do you know what he meant with that?"<br>"With re-evaluating my usefulness? No, Guardian Unit Cindermaw Sir. This one does not know."  
>The Allicon crouched, bringing his face close to that of Hextaida. His optics dimmed and he grinned in dark humor, "Re-evaluating usefulness is Creator code-speak. It means 'to order destroyed."<p>

|/]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]  
>[End of Chapter: Callcheck received.]<br>|/]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]

There have been serious health issues in the family and I truly haven't felt like writing for a while. Updates will happen when they happen.

Still, I hope that these stories will remain to be read and enjoyed. It is my attempt to continue writing as best as I possibly can.


	3. Chapter 3 - Cell 8

|/]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]  
>[Chapter: Cell 8.]<p>

[Location: Khalanxis, Aphos Wing, lab G-20.17.]  
>"It means 'to order destroyed'."<br>Cindermaw watched with curious delight how the little mech in front of him froze, then began to tremble. A proper amount of fear showed on its face. The Allicon snorted, blowing hot air from his engine compartment into the unit's face-plate.  
>"Ah. I-I understand, Guardian Unit Cindermaw Sir." Hextaida told him, voice timid.<br>With a nod and a grunt, the seasoned fighter rose from his crouch. "That will be all then, little mech."

[Location: Khalanxis, mid-level ventilation tunnels.]  
>Hidden behind the tower walls were tunnels that never saw the light of day. There were no visitors to these tunnels, save for the occasional Sharkticon worker sent in to clear out some clogged fans.<p>

It was in one of these tunnels that a little mech was making its way down the length of it. Optical lights illuminated the otherwise dark path, and the thick darkness lingered just mere steps behind the robot's backside. If the tunnels had proper lighting, one could read the identification tag stamped into the backside: D-MSU-01. But here those letters were illegible and so its code as well as its codename, Lomdai, was lost in the void.  
>Not that Lomdai cared. It didn't care about anything.<br>Within one hand it held a scraper; in the other hand it clenched a bag for waste. Like a pair of flashlights, its vision cut through the darkness to illuminate the floor and walls. At times, something would flit through the beams of light but Lomdai just kept on walking without giving any reaction to the scurrying and screeching around it.

It would halt at times, though. At those moments, thick plaques of grime and junk and waste were stared at in utmost concentration.  
>"Detection." Lomdai announced at one such buildup of junk. It was high up on the wall. Lomdai's vision never left the location as it approached the wall and promptly walk up against it. A warm buzz came from the magnaclamps in the mech's boots as it did so. With due care, Lomdai carefully scraped loose the gunk and let it fall into the bag. It worked diligently, silently.<br>Lomdai did not sing.  
>It did not even hum as it worked.<br>It worked, and that was all.

Brzzzt!  
>A weird visual glitch shot across the unit's vision, distorting the view momentarily and deactivating the optical lights. Lomdai stopped working, staring out into the pitch black. But the glitch did not return. The lights did, thankfully.<br>After a few seconds of more staring, the small mech continued working before moving on to the next spot. It didn't even shrug off the anomaly: it just continued working.  
>With the plaque scraped off, Lomdai got up, walked back down to the floor and continued onwards. Darkness gradually returned to the tunnel as the mech disappeared down the far end.<p>

"We've played enough!"  
>Lomdai slowly held its stride as the cry rang out. It tilted its head a bit, listening to see if it heard more.<br>The tunnels remained silent.  
>The main frame system sent out a ping which popped up on the mech's HUD. Lomdai answered with its location and status. The second response was one foot placed in front of the other, and the continuation of work. Lomdai marched diligently, stopping and scraping and cleaning.<br>It didn't seem fazed by the sound: It saw nothing, it heard nothing anymore. It had no orders to search for anything but junk and grime. And what it found was put into the bag.

"N-No, damn you!"  
>The machine halted faster this time.<br>Brzzt! The strange visual glitch shot across Lomdai's sight once more, now strong enough to leave little pixel artifacts in its wake. For just a second the mech perceived the sound of a lake in the echo of a large room.  
>But there was no lake here. There was only the tunnel with its flow of air and the scurrying of infestation that had made it their home. The tunnel was long and filthy and 01 was tasked to clean it.<br>Lomdai decisively strode ahead, hacking at grime and collecting it. Any distortions lingering in optics faded quickly enough. It worked hard and quietly, and kept up its machine pace for hours. It left floor after floor, climbing higher and higher.

"If I die then so will you, you slaggin' backstabber!"  
>Lomdai cringed and whirled around quickly when that voice cried out again, staring back into the hallway in alarm. That voice… it was here as well!<br>The scraper slipped from Lomdai's grip and clanged to the ground. The sound echoed far through the ventilation system, deforming into a distant gong.  
>"Command: Identify." The little mech called out into the darkness, not moving an inch from its spot.<p>

Brzzzt-Bang!  
>Lomdai's optics widened a bit, and their intensity dimmed slowly. The fingers of its left hand twitched, and it lifted the appendage up and laid it passively on its chest plate.<br>The little robot stood there for a moment, looking down at its intact front. It wavered, dropping on its knees. Out in the dark tunnel, the mech remained.

"Attacked." It synthesized the word. A short blink followed it.  
>Slowly, it lowered the lifted hand; bend through its knees to pick the scraper back up from the ground. It turned silently, and continued walking down the tunnel, scraping at gunk and grime as it went.<p>

[Location, Office of the Overseer]  
>"Oh Honored Overseer of Khalanxis. You summoned me?"<br>The five-faced Quintesson that drifted into the office called out brightly, eyes dancing over the impeccable orderliness of the room before setting on the Overseer. It dipped into a graceful bow.  
>The to-a-certain-degree ruler of the Khalanxis tower looked up from his documents, and a gentle smile formed on his blue and silvery face, "Tho'Chobai, you're here. Good, good. How was your flight from the Septorus facility?"<br>"It was calm and orderly, Most Revered One. As all flights should be, Sir."  
>"Indeed they should. Indeed they should." The Overseer affirmed, hovering away from his desk to collect a bowl filled with colorful, glimmering 'pebbles', "Come try the Lupit Marbles, they are exquisite."<br>"Oh! Thank you, Wise One. You are too kind!" Tho'Chobai's face lit up with glee and the Quintesson happily fished one of the offered sweets from the container.

The Overseer placed the bowl back on his desk, still smiling. "Tho'Chobai, I called you in for a reason..." He started, "I need a broadcast in the facility, and I would like you to provide it. You have a... certain way with subjects and their attention. I feel that a personal broadcast from the Voice of the Empire would be a major boost for morale." Both Quintessons smiled bemusedly at the carefully placed words.  
>"I would be honored, Sir." Tho'Chobai admitted, sleek face softening into a gentle gaze, "What is this specific broadcast about?"<p>

"We have taken a batch of robotic workers into service. They were developed by the Aphos wing."  
>"Emphisa." Tho'Chobai grinned furtively. "I know his division."<br>"I know you know." The Overseer stated calmly, "and I want it known throughout the whole of Khalanxis that these mechs are on trial, and that they listen only to words of order and discipline. They are drone-likes."

Tho'Chobai purred, "You want me to spin a story! A glorious tale to enthrall the-urk!" He shut up immediately as a tentacle whipped through the air and lashed at him. He could feel his skin burn from the lash, but his eyes betrayed an unbroken spirit. "Oh, my Overseer." He replied, voice sweetening.

"Do not work your wiles upon me, Cho. You know that I know you far too well for that; you cannot take hold of me, and I suggest you stop trying. Immediately."  
>Tho'Chobai froze for a second, eyes hardening just a bit. "My Overseer… I would never-"<br>A cold stare is cast his way, a threatening warning. Tho'Chobai coughed and averted his gaze. "My apologies, your Honored One. Sometimes I… lose myself."  
>"Discipline is mandatory for every Quintesson, Tho'Chobai. I order you to devote a couple of hours to reacquaint yourself with the nature of it."<p>

This invoked a physical retreat from the lower-ranked Quintesson. "Of course, Oh Honored One. I depend on your wise commands, as every Quintesson under the guidance of the Overseers does, Sir."  
>Rather curtly, the Overseer straightened himself and turned to stare out of the room's window, "Good. I have prepared a news item for you to study; you may find it in the resting chamber that has been prepared for you in the upper habitats. I expect you to be ready to announce this evening."<br>"Acknowledged, Revered Overseer." Tho'Chobai nodded.  
>"You may leave."<br>"Oh Honored One. There is one last thing I would like to discuss with you, if I am granted a few more minutes of your time?" Tho'Chobai's voice took on a pleading tone as he attempted to negotiate the command. His tone was genuine.

The Overseer straightened himself and continued staring out of the window. "/You may leave/."

[Location: Khalanxis, Aphos Wing, lab G-20.17.]  
>Emphisa entered his lab, and found an Allicon and an unclassified cargo lifter standing in front of one another.<br>"Oh, what is this then?"  
>Cindermaw clanged his heels together and gave a firm salute, "Master Creator Emphisa Sir!"<br>Hextaida Mandar turned, a happy smile flashing onto his features, "Master Creator Emphisa Sir!" The little mech leaned into a lithe bow.

The mono-faced Quintesson gave both of them a nod before his eyes caught sight of the screen behind Cindermaw. He hovered to a workbench and carefully rearranged some tools there to match his demand for neatness. His tentacles were still playing with a wrench as he chased down his curiosity; "Tell me, units; why am I seeing an overview of Hextaida's standing orders on that screen?"  
>He turned just enough to cast a sidelong glance at the both of them.<p>

Hextaida cringed visibly. That was telling. Emphisa turned to face them fully, a pair of tentacles folding over each other behind his back. He raised one eyebrow, waiting expectantly.  
>"I, eh." Hextaida wavered.<br>Cindermaw grunted, "Speak clearly." He nudged the little mech with a foot.  
>"Guardian Unit Cindermaw has given this unit new restrictions, since it was approached by Sharkticon Unit Macetail for assistance in the dockyards, Master Creator Emphisa Sir."<p>

Emphisa narrowed his eyes, "And did you assist Macetail?"  
>"N-no, Sir. It lacked the proper knowledge to do so."<br>"Did you try to assist?"  
>"Yes, Master Creator Emphisa Sir. This one did try to assist."<br>"And why did you do that?"  
>"Sharkticon Unit Macetail is part of the facility, Master Creator Emphisa Sir, and he's superior to this unit. This one had to obey…" Hextaida cringed again as Emphisa neatly rewarded his answers with another keen question. The Quintesson was looking at him, but nothing betrayed what the Quintesson was thinking.<br>"Are you feeling remorse for having had to obey unit Macetail?"  
>"N-no Sir. This one does not feel remorse for having obeyed. But it feels… strange, because two superior orders conflicted."<br>"And will you obey a Sharkticon, or your Creator, in future conflicts of this type?"  
>"M-My Creator, Master Creator Emphisa Sir. This one will obey its Creator..."<br>"And if the Sharkticon threatens to eat you?"  
>"This one will…" Hextaida's optics widen ever so slightly as an appropriate amount of fear takes hold of him. "M-my Creator? I will obey my Creator, Sir."<br>Emphisa raised his head slightly, eyes focusing on Cindermaw. The Allicon growled, "If a foe holds you at point-blank range of his gun, we follow the commands of our Creators. If a brother orders you to move against the orders of our Creators, we will deny them obedience. We were forged by Quintessons and we do not yield to opposition. Such is the essence of loyalty, and loyalty is our essence."  
>Emphisa looked back down to the little cargo-lifter, "Do you understand those words, unit D-HEX-23675?"<br>"I do, Master Creator Emphisa Sir."  
>"Good answer, unit. Now I want you to leave this room and take some time to let that good answer nestle in your systems until it becomes your only answer. I have some things to discuss with Cindermaw which are not for your audio receivers."<br>"As you command, Master Creator Emphisa Sir." With that, the little mech bows, turns and leaves the lab.

"Cindermaw." Emphisa speaks as soon as the door closes again, eyes focusing on the Allicon.  
>"Master Creator Emphisa Sir?"<br>"What was your intrinsic prompt to order new restrictions on the prototype?"  
>Cindermaw grunted in surprise, "Ah…" He quickly stopped talking. When he spoke again, it was with a clear and steady voice; "The prototype is your creation, Sir. This unit knows how important the project is; it was my attempt to assist in protecting it."<p>

"And you care, why?" Emphisa narrowed his eyes. Cindermaw did not move; he just stared back without flinching, "Sir, the little one is part of the whole. I would protect it like I would protect my fellow Allicons and Sharkticons."  
>At this, the Quintesson scientist frowned, concern briefly coursing through his mind.<br>"Would you destroy it if I ordered you to?"  
>"Without hesitation, Sir. Like you ordered me to destroy the previous versions, Sir."<p>

"I see. Next time you will report to me before adding restrictions to the prototype: it is allowed to roam for research purposes. To see that you will not repeat this mistake again I will have you appointed to the prison cleaning crew for a month."

Cindermaw blinked in surprise, "The prototype is send away and I'm ordered to walk the rust-shift, Sir? No disrespect meant, Sir, but am I properly receiving that message?"  
>"Different mechs, different punishments." Emphisa replied smoothly, "You're not the one who ends up on my dissecting table and I don't have several copies waiting in stasis to replace you with. I rule these halls, Allicon, and I rule them to everyone's capacity to bear burden. You do not have a problem with that; in fact you agree that this is very just."<br>Cindermaw froze for a moment and his systems faltered. Then the Allicon refocused and relaxed, "Acknowledged, Honored Master." With more grace than his form seemed capable off, Cindermaw bowed.  
>"Good. Back to work then."<p>

[Location: Khalanxis, Aphos Wing, stairwell.]  
>Hextaida was sitting on one of the steps of the stairs leading up from the current floor. His chin was resting in his hands, arms propped up on his knees. The little mech was staring out in front of him, thoughts with the conversation he had before getting kicked out of the lab.<br>He should've known better. He should've denied Macetail his assistance. The Sharkticon belonged to Salaxorius. He should stay away from it.  
>But… Macetail seemed nice. At times. Hextaida of course didn't meet him often.<br>But the Sharkticon seemed to tolerate him more than others did.  
>But it was wrong to interact with a mech unit from Justice.<p>

Still, Emphisa hadn't ordered him destroyed. That was a chance to redeem himself, wasn't it? The Quintesson didn't re-evaluate his usefulness; if he made sure to work hard and not go outside of Aphos or didn't linger outside of it if he had to leave the department, then such a re-evaluation wouldn't be necessary. It seemed logical enough.  
>Slowly, he lifted his head as the realization brought him out of lapse of confidence. His azure optics roamed past the department names on the floor legend, noticing something he had never really thought about because his world wasn't usually constrained to just the Aphos wing.<p>

His department had three floors. Hextaida pushed himself from his seat and approached the sign. Yes, there is was; two research floors, and one containment area. What did they contain? A surge of curiosity erupted from his core and he was bounding down the stairs before the decision had been fully formed. He was still in between tasks. If he hurried he would have enough time to see before he got summoned for work.

Hextaida passed the middle floor, but went further down into the direction of the containment wing. Taking the second exit, Hextaida carefully peered into the hallway. There were no Quintessons here. He did see a guard station right in front of the elevators, with one Allicon sitting at the desk. There was an atmosphere of calmness hanging here, as if there was a perpetual night's watch going on here. Two Allicons were walking up and down the hall in both directions, their footfalls echoing against the walls. The hall was dirty, though, and quite unkept. Hextaida cringed his nose this in an expression of disapproval as he had seen some Quintessons do when faced with a speck of dust.  
>There was a lot of dust here.<p>

"Little one, come here and identify yourself." The Allicon at the desk called out. Hextaida failed to stifle his surprised gasp at having been detected before he even set a foot on the floor. He lowered his head a bit before walking up as directed, "Y-You saw me?" He asked, not entirely without awe.  
>"The laser detection system hidden in de doorpost saw you." The Allicon replied cunningly before looking over the desk, "Ah, D-HEX-23327, correct? Or did that one get destroyed already?"<br>Hextaida blinked, "Eh.. This one is number 23675, Sir."  
>"You are?" The Allicon stared back in confusion. "Hmm, we missed some updates down here. Scan to verify, please."<br>Hextaida held up his right hand and much to his delight he was offered the Allicon's hand in return.  
>"You are right, you are indeed number 23675. Welcome to the world."<br>"I've been here for quite a few weeks, Mister Kalldfire 6623-557-65 Sir." Hextaida informed quietly.  
>"Details." The Allicon grinned, "What are you doing down here? This is a restricted area."<br>"What is here? I have never been here before."  
>The Allicon answered, and his tone of voice was weary and hinted at exhaustion, "Containment of research specimens for the Masters."<br>"Could this one look around, Mister Kalldfire 6623-557-65 Sir?"  
>The Allicon wavered. "Hmm, well you are a denizen of this department and you don't don't have clearance. Just make sure not to touch anything. And don't try to open any doors. There are windows in some places so I suppose you can look through those."<br>"Thank you, Mister Kalldfire 6623-557-65 Sir!"

Hextaida went zooming off one way almost immediately. Fair enough, '65' sat back down and continued his own work, whatever it was, immediately as well. The little cargo-lifter hopped past door after door until it came across a window. The glass and wall transitioned smoothly into one another; there was no ledge to hang onto. Hextaida grimaced. He tensed, gathered his strength, and jumped as high as he possibly could. The window was still too high up for him to catch a glimpse. Oh, this was a cruel joke the Allicon had played on him! Pouting slightly, the little mech looked back to the guard's station.  
>No. He wasn't going to get himself into more trouble today by asking for assistance. He'd just have to find another window that was low enough.<br>With that decision made, Hextaida marched down the hallway, passing grey door after grey door. He passed one obsidian black door, and stared at it for a moment in utter wonder.

The end of the hallway was rather bland. It just ended. There was nothing to see. Shoulders dropped a bit in disappointment and Hextaida Mandar walked back to the guard's post in a saddened mood. For the sake of completing the routine, he passed by the desk and headed the other way.  
>There was a little spark of hope in him that the other side might be different. There was a chance of it being different!<br>The moment he started checking out this area, the mech's hopes were already dropping, though.  
>Door after door, they were all the same and the windows were too high and smooth.<br>Except for one. At first, Hextaida didn't notice it. He walked past one door that was different, but only noticed it being so when he came back from the end of the corridor.

It wasn't the door that was different. It was the locking mechanism. This one was big glass sphere instead of a keypad. Out of curiosity, Hextaida moved closer to the sphere to inspect it. As the little robot leaned in for a better look, the glass reacted to his approach by springing to live. Perhaps it had always been active. Whatever the case was, a flash of light blinded Hextaida for a moment, and an automated voice called out; "[Identification code scanned, D-HEX-23675. Clearance confirmed. Access granted. Releasing locks.]"  
>Hextaida watched in shock as the door unlocked with audible clicks, and then disappeared into the wall. A cold bluish glow shone from the entrance. He did not mean to do that! He did not try to open this door! He waited fearfully, glancing down the hall. Nothing happened: No guard came running, his systems did not enter electrocution. Of course it didn't. He hadn't tried to open a door: It had opened itself. There was a lot of power hidden in semantics.<p>

Hextaida took a step sideways so he was standing in front of the door opening. He stood there, staring into the optics widened and became gradually brighter. The pace with which his engine cycled air picked up speed. The pulse of his life energy quickened and the turbines on his back pulled up flush against his body. His form shivered, but it was not in fear. Hextaida shivered with excitement.

Still no Allicon came down the hallway. The little cargo-lifter stepped onto the threshold. The blue glow originated from the nineteen energon bonds that held one single robot firmly pinned against the wall. Each arm and each leg had two bonds. Across the waist was a set of two bonds. Each wing, a total of two, was also pinned with two bonds each. And an especially thick bond was circling the robot's neck. There was no way that this mech was getting free easily.

Hextaida, micromaster-sized as he is, finds Allicons pretty darn big. But this mech? Oh, he's even bigger!  
>"By the fires of the forge… what are/ you?!"

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>[End of Chapter: Cell 8.]<p>

Cell 8! Who is this robot? And what went on with Lomdai in the darkness? We'll have to see in the next chapter.

About Tho'Chobai: I did not intentionally mean to give Tho'Chobai the same 'nick' that Autobot Blaster has… yet nothing else would fit. However, 'Chobi' is going to be nicked 'The Voice of the Empire'.

Thank you for reading!


	4. Chapter 4 - Galestorm

|/]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]] [Chapter: Galestorm.] |/]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]

He had stepped inside of the room almost automatically. D-HEX-23675 was so absorbed in the sight of the constrained mech that he didn't think about what he was doing.

Now at closer proximity he noticed that a pair of red orbs glowed in the optical casings. The optics of this mech were barely active, staring into an endless void with a vague red shimmer. The systems seemed set in stand-by mode. Hextaida placed his hands at his sides, bend forward a little bit in a demanding posture and called out, "Hey! Prisoner! This one asked what you are!"

The large mech did not respond to him. Hextaida waited a bit, observing the silvery white and army green colors of the mech against the dullness of the prison cell. It seemed as if this mech had been here for a while. And it still did not answer him.  
>Hextaida grimaced a bit, "Aren't you going to answer? Don't you have a vocalizer?" He waved both hands above his head, but even his waving garnered no reaction.<p>

This was the only room that he could see into, and it contained a unit that appeared outright comatose. The little cargo-lifter pouted and his shoulders drooped a bit. It just wasn't fair. Perhaps he needed to prod a little more...  
>"I'm going to climb you if you don't answer me!" He attempted. The big mech did not react.<p>

"/Fine/! I'm coming up there. Don't say I didn't warn you." With that, Hextaida Mandar approached one of the large shins. He only reached up halfway but the exhaust ports, seams and bolts gave him enough purchase to start his climb. A rumble went through the body, but it was weak and was not followed by anything else. Boldly, the little mech continued mantling the large structure, small fingers wedging themselves between creaks in the thick armored panels. He placed a foot in the other robots thigh, and reached out and pulled himself futher up. Not before long did his fingers catch the rim of what he did not know to be a cockpit. He had come up a little bit at the side, peering upwards with a curious but slightly careful look. This mech was so big.

After taking a moment to watch silently, Hextaida concluded that the prisoner was still offline. With one swift motion he heaved himself up, hooked one knee around the cockpit rim and tumbled onto the horizontal plateau that led up to the thick cables of an armored neck. There was just enough space between the edge and the face of the offline robot. Hextaida could just fit there, staring at the rough and chiseled faceplate. It was lean and dirty and marred with scars that the nanobot structure of the living metal failed to heal. A closer inspection revealed tiny specks of rust. Hextaida experienced a pinch of concern at this discovery. "You're not taking good care of yourself." He says with a hint of disdain, "You have to correct that, you know."

His gaze wanders over the rest of the body, discovering more specks of rust underneath thick layers of dust and grease lining the joints visible between shoulder and torso. At last, his optics focus on the majestic wings pinned between body and wall. Although discolored and scraped and flakey at some points, there is a distinctive mark set on the surface. Once deep and bright purple, the sigil is now nothing more than a sickly weak violet gray.

But the sigil shape is still recognizable, and Hextaida stares in growing awe. Although Cybertron was far away and its reputation little more than a rogue planet infested with malfunctioning hardware, the Quintesson Masters did invest quite some time in updating the history databanks. And they would hammer every update tightly into his head. Cybertron's state of affairs was important. Its history every example of how a good unit does not behave. Except for one minute detail.  
>With all due haste, Hextaida turns back to the face, laying a hand on each side of the jawline and bringing his face close, "You! Decepticon! Wake up! Wake UP!"<p>

A rumble shot through the body, a sound that started slow and lumbering but increased in volume at a quick pace. The ruby optics that had burned dimly intensified in brightness but did not shift to focus on the little mech in front of the Cybertronian's broad nose.  
>They did not need to.<br>Down to the very magnification, the most minute detail of focus, they were already set on the little mech.  
>And they probably had been for a while.<br>Hextaida froze, the sudden realization hitting him as he was subjected to an outright murderous stare. The large, no, huge war machine lifted its head slightly. Air was sucked deeply into big exhaust ports located in the anthracite helmet and for just a moment it seemed as if the mech prepared to yell at him.

"Little mech, I could've killed you a thousand times over, starting with the moment you stepped into this room." A dark baritone voice grinded from a vocalizer hidden deep within the throat. There was a rasp to it from sheer lack of use but it sure didn't lack anything in sheer intimidation. The sentence was followed with a low growl that rippled the air. Hextaida felt himself freeze, being reminded of the predatory stare of an Allicon. Except bigger. Much bigger.

The little cargo-lifter blinked, blue optics staring up as red optics stared down. For a moment, he said nothing. Then he grinned. "But you're all tied up! You're not going to kill me. You're not going to do anything but hang here!"

"I-" The Decepticon found his intimidating posture wiped out with one carefully thought-out retort. His lenses shifted, refocusing on that seemingly young visage. "SLAG, do I have to suffer you too? Like this wretched dank prison cell isn't enough! There's not a sigil on you. What are you anyway if not a Con? You a rusting 'bot? Are those filthy squid-faces sending me an Autobot to grind my gears..." With an insistent growl, the Decepticon adds, "Or perhaps you managed to get free and are now escaping? Help /me/ from these bonds and let's make a deal to help each other get out of this place. I'm done hanging around here, ready to wreck some of my captors if you understand what I mean." The sudden shift from confusion to sly cunning was a very smooth one.  
>In fact, it was so smooth that Hextaida stalled for a moment to think about this change in tone, before he replied, "Pff, I'm no escapee! I'm Master Creator Emphisa's prototype! And I'm not even thinking of helping you; I know that logo from the databanks, you're a Decepticon!" His voice pitched a bit higher with accusation.<p>

The captive fighter smirked, bright ruby optics squinting in what seemed to be a confident expression, "You got that right, kid, and I'm proud to be one!"  
>"I wouldn't be so proud if I were you, Decepticons are rogue products! You don't obey our Quintesson Creators, and I'm sure you were informed by now of who they are, and you dare call them derogatories so I might have reasons to call you a traitor!"<br>"Traitor?! Harumph! Who dare say that? We Decepticons are proud warriors! I will have you know that no-one called me a traitor at the battle of Lok'wer! A hero, that is what the natives called us there! A traitor, look at you talk. A Quintesson pet, you are then? Talking how they talk? You're talking greaseslack, that's what! Tell me; you ever seen a real Decepticon?"

Hextaida cringes his nose at the question and replies indignantly, "Yes, I have seen a real Decepticon!"  
>At this assumption, the 'Con grinned with apparent disbelief. He made all effort to mockingly display his thoughts, "Hah, you lie. Who then, you dinky prison pet of a Quint-squid?"<br>"You! This one is seeing you, and you have stated to be a Decepticon and you wear three times the Decepticon Sigil; two on your wings and one on your helmet! /You/ are a Decepticon!"  
>"Me-what?!" The seeker stares blankly for a moment, no insult lining his sentence as he regards the diminutive mech, "-How old are you?"<br>"About a week old, Decepticon!" Hextaida is looked at strangely. "A /week/ old? Slag, what is your designation, kid?"  
>"Prototype D-Hex 23675, Decepticon. Alternative monniker Hextaida Mandar."<br>"Hextaida Mandar? That's the strangest name I've ever heard. It's not even Cybertronian."  
>"That is because I'm not a Cybertronian! Cybertron isn't even a legal state! I'm a Quintessonian product. Tell me your designation, Decepticon!"<br>The war machine grinds his teeth; for being a week old this little unit sure knows how to order him around. Was it a Decepticon he would slap it a few times for discipline- nah, come to think of it he would probably kill the little one instantly if he did that. The thing didn't look too tough. "Galestorm, kid. My designation is Galestorm. I'm a Sky Warrior, one of the Decepticon's main airborne fighting force; we are the greatest fighting force in the galaxy, and do not let anyone tell you otherwise."

"...!" Hextaida's optics widen. For a moment he looks confused. A tremble goes through his body and then his facial features fold in a hard stare of dismay. He leans back, raises an arm, flattens a hand. SMACK! Hextaida slaps the mech straight across the face, as hard as he can. He's not exactly able to miss. "I asked your name, not your function, and I definitely did not ask you for any opinion on your faction, Decepticon!"

Galestorm stared at him. He hadn't averted his face when the little mech lashed out at him but his optics dimmed just so. Now, they intensify to shine brilliant red with a distinct fury. It is through clenched teeth that he speaks, chin jutting out in defiance, "You think it's /wise/ to get hands on with a mech who can kill you without effort, youngling?" His body, in the perception of Hextaida, rumbles dangerously. His voice is cold and calculated, inquisitive and thick with threat.

There's a pause as Hextaida thinks things through. He looks down and back up before speaking honestly, "We all have to obey rules and regulations. You understand that, right? If we don't we must be disciplined." He nods to himself, "We must be strict to be effective! The Masters would have me slapped if I disobeyed them, so I'm slapping you because you disobeyed me! Besides, you're constrained. What can you possibly do?" Both mechs look at each other, neither one backing down.

"Rha-hahaHAH!" Suddenly, Galestorm roars into a raspy laughter, "Hah! I get it; you're trying to apply what they teach you then? You really do try and talk like /them/. The slaggers. You talk greaseslack, boy! Alright, I'll play, ahem; You are correct, little one. You did ask for my designation, not my function." It's kind of difficult to feel offense at the pretty futile attempt to discipline him if this child is just mimicking its masters. To be honest, the slap hadn't even hurt him, what with his military steel and everything.

With a tilt of his head, Hextaida continues cunningly, "So you're a sky warrior of the Decepticon army. Where's the rest of your fighting force?"  
>Galestorm looks taken aback for a moment, optics dimming in a quick blink before he lets out an irritated roar, "They are staging my rescue, probably!"<br>Slag, he didn't feel like discussing this at all.  
>D-HEX-23675, on the other hand, thought differently. "How long have you been here, unit Galestorm?"<br>Galestorm stared at him for a second. It dawned on him that none of the Quintessons ever called his name. To hear it spoken felt strange. "For far too long, Hextaida Mandar. For far too long."  
>"How long is that, unit Galestorm?"<br>Yes, how long was it? Months, Days, Years. Decades?  
>Galestorm could look it up. His memory banks still knew the day of his capture. But... he really didn't want to remember. It was too long ago, and thinking about it made his situation appear very bleak. It was better for his morale to not think about it.<br>"I don't know." He lied. Thank Cybertron his words vocalized easily. A nice secondary skill to have as a Decepticon.  
>Hextaida nodded, "Ok." He thought, the makings of another question just there on his lips. "Why are you here, unit Galestorm?"<br>"I don't know." The words were repeated.  
>"Ok."<br>Galestorm frowned, a stern look shifting his features, "You're not going to set me free from these bonds then, are you?"  
>"No, I'm not." Was the simple reply that Hextaida gave him.<br>With a low growl from deep within him, Galestorm communicated just much how this displeased him.

Instead of looking for a way to free the warrior, Hextaida glanced at his features, curiosity visible on his face. It kind of sickened Galestorm, to be stuck to a wall with this little mech perching on him with absolutely no sense of shame or respect. He was a fraggin' display piece! As Hextaida turned to look down his cockpit canopy, Galestorm's optics narrowed dangerously. Yes, it was pleasant to encounter someone who didn't treat him as an object to be abused, but you know what? Galestorm decided he didn't need a little weakling mech taking an interest in his person. Especially not if it wasn't going to help him.  
>Out of nowhere his body shook, tensed. Then, quick as anything, the part of his chest where Hextaida was perched slammed down in a lightning-fast attempt at transformation!<br>For just a millisecond, Hextaida was positively floating in the air, optics turning to shock. Then he went along with gravity and crashed into the military-grade metal right as it rose back up to meet him. Being the weakest of the two forces, the blow of their connection launched him back into the air at an angle. Now, there was /nothing/ beneath him except for the ground down below.  
>"Gy-aaaah!"<br>Galestorm smirked with satisfied glee as the child cried out in horror on its way down, and rumbled his approval at the painful crunch of impact. For a moment, everything was silent.  
>Then the wailing began.<p>

"Aaaaaaaaaaah! You-You're MEAN!" Hextaida cried out in shock. He glared upwards and was faced with a gaze of pure indifference. He scrambled to get up, let out a furious high-pitched hiss that resembled nothing sentient and dashed out of the room. "I hope they destroy you!"  
>Galestorm watched as the mech ran out, bloodred optics staring without blinking. When the door slid shut and silence filled the room, the Decepticon shifted a cog in his left shoulder to get some relief from the torture of suspended animation. He snorted, a sound which ended in a sigh as he resumed his dormant state.<p>

|/]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]] [End of Chapter: Galestorm.] |/]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]]

An update! I know it's been a while since the last one, still due to situations and everything. I hope you liked meeting Galestorm. I dedicated this chapter solely to him. There will be mixed scenes again later on.

Please review or favorite or follow if you liked the story/chapter. That would be amazing. Comments and positive critique are always welcome.

Thank you for reading!


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